


Punishment

by TheTruthBetween



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Corporal Punishment, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Incest, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Parent/Child Incest, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, kitchen utensils as implements of punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTruthBetween/pseuds/TheTruthBetween
Summary: Sexy AU take on what happens when Mary tells the boys she's been working with the British Men of Letters.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Mary Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Punishment

_“So where does that leave us?”_

_“Same as always. Family. Just… hear me out. Please.”_

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw, restlessly pacing in place before shaking his head. “You know what? No. No, I’m not going to hear you out. You know why? Because _nothing_ you could say could make this okay.”

Glancing down quickly, Mary tightened her arms across her chest and softly said, “Dean…”

“No, Mary.” Dean watched the slight shift in her body language, like he might as well have slapped her than call her by her first name. He explained, “Yeah, I’m not gonna call you mom. You know why? Because when I look at you and call you mom, I think about fucking you in your bed.”

Mary’s body went stock-still, her eyes widening and flicking over to Sam, whose expression hadn’t changed.

“Yeah, I told Sam what happened the night before you left. I thought he deserved to know the _real_ reason you left. Because it is the real reason, isn’t it? We had sex, and you freaked out about it.”

Swallowing hard, Mary fought the feeling that her throat was closing up. “Dean, stop,” she said quietly.

Dean shook his head with a puff of a laugh. “I don’t think I will. You need to realize that you can’t change what happened. We fucked.” Taking a couple quick strides forward, he grabbed her arms and pushed her back against the side of the staircase, leaning in close. “And if I have anything to say about it, you’ll be getting used to the idea.”

Mary looked down, her voice trembling as she repeated, “Stop,” her hands coming up to push against his chest.

Taking a step back so he was no longer pinning her in place, Dean took in a deep breath, pulling himself back under control. “The way I see it, you have a choice. You can stay here with us, your _family_ , or you can go back out there,” he pointed in the direction of the door, “and you don’t come back.”

“Dean, it’s not that simple,” Mary tried to explain. “The Men of Letters--”

Dean held up an imperious finger, his lips pinched together in a tight line. “Don’t. Don’t even _try_ to justify that. You _saw_ what they did to Sam. And you’re just okay with that? Just buying their shit about a ‘rogue agent’?”

“Of course not, but--” before she could say more, Dean cut her off again.

“What are you gonna do, Mary? Stay or go?”

Brow furrowed in a sad, pleading look, Mary implored, “Dean…”

“Choose!” Dean bellowed, turning away from her and swiping his hand across the table, catching his bottle of beer and flinging it across the room to smash against the wall in an explosion of glass and beer.

Sam was the only one who saw Mary’s flinch, and he finally spoke up. “Dean. Relax.”

Taking a moment to get himself under control again, Dean planted his hands on his hips, head tilted down while he just breathed in the now-silent room.

Sam didn’t speak again, and Mary didn’t dare to as they waited.

Finally Dean trusted himself to stay calm and turned back to look at Mary with intense eyes. “ _Choose_ ,” he demanded again.

Mary swallowed and took a slow breath. It took her a second to gather her thoughts and sort through her feelings, and during that time, she watched Dean closing off, writing her off. Then she quietly answered, “I’m staying.”

“And you won’t work with the Brits anymore?” Sam asked, his body language tentatively relaxing. He was always quicker to forgive than Dean.

“No,” Mary said, shaking her head. No matter how reluctant she was to give up the work she’d been doing with the British Men of Letters, what she’d told Ketch was true -- her sons came first.

Dean still looked like he wanted to hit something, but he rolled his shoulders into a state of pseudo-relaxation and grabbed a new bottle of beer. “Okay.”

After that, dinner was silent and awkward, and as soon as the food was gone, Mary retreated quickly to her old bedroom. Neither of her sons went after her.

*

A week passed.

Things slowly got better between Sam and Mary, although an edge of awkwardness lingered, mostly because Dean still gave her the cold shoulder. 

“Dude, what the hell,” Sam finally spoke up one evening in the library. “Are you _trying_ to drive Mom away again?”

“Course not,” Dean grumbled, glaring down at the book in front of him.

“Then why are you being a dick? She’s here, she apologized… let it go, man.”

Dean slammed the book closed and shoved it again. “I can’t, okay? It’s driving me crazy. Like she can just waltz back in, say sorry and everything’s supposed to be fine? It’s not fine, Sam. It’s so far from not fine. You don’t do something like that and just get away with it, scot-free.”

“So punish me,” a new voice cut into the conversation, and Dean and Sam both turned to see Mary standing in the doorway.

Everyone was quiet for a long moment before Dean asked, “What?”

One corner of Mary’s mouth tilted up and she took a couple steps into the room, eyes on Dean. “Punish me,” she repeated. “However you feel it necessary. Whatever it takes to move us past this.”

“And if I want to fuck you into submission?” Dean asked challengingly.

Mary’s chin lifted minutely even as a tremor ran through her body. “I’m not sure how that would be a punishment, but if that’s what you want.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted and he shook his head slightly. “That’s my cue,” he said, pushing back from the table to stand up. “I’ll sleep with earplugs tonight.”

Once Sam had left, Mary tilted her head and asked, “Is that what you want, Dean? My submission?”

“I want you to be _sorry_.”

“I a--”

“No,” Dean spoke over Mary. “You _say_ you’re sorry, Mary.” He hadn’t called her Mom since she came back. “I want to _hear_ that you’re sorry. I want you to feel consequences.”

Mary stood there, rolling his words over in her head. Finally she said, “I need a safeword.”

“Demons,” Dean answered automatically, before doing a double-take. “You know what a safeword is?”

Grinning, Mary shrugged and said vaguely, “I’ve been on my knees before.”

“Huh.” After another moment, he asked, “So are you done freaking out over the fact that we had sex?”

Mary’s smile faded and she blew out a long breath, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. “It’s hard,” she admitted. “When it happened… I was heartbroken. John was dead. I missed him. I still do. But it’s getting easier. And I keep, I keep forgetting that you’re my son. You and Sam. I know it in my head, of course, and I can see it in your faces. But… I’m sorry. It’s hard to reconcile the little boy I remember from a few months ago with the man in front of me.”

Dean nodded slowly, the statement not painful like he would have expected. It made sense. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Are you done freaking out?”

Sighing, Mary thought about it for another moment. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I believe I am. If… if you don’t have a problem with the fact that I’m your mother, then I don’t have a problem with the fact that you’re my son.” It helped that while she’d been gone, she’d gotten a prescription for birth control. The panic of possibly getting pregnant by her biological child had been overwhelming.

“Okay. Good.” The quiet stretched out, and just before it got awkward, he said, “Why don’t you go to your room. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Oh,” Mary breathed. This was really happening. “All right.”

They both got up, going in different directions. Mary to her bedroom and Dean to the kitchen, where he rummaged through drawers until he came up with two wooden spoons, one wide and the other narrow, and a plastic spatula with holes in it that whistled when he swished it through the air.

His bounty in hand, he made his way to Mary’s bedroom.

Mary waited anxiously, her stomach twisting and clenching, even as arousal built within her. She didn’t know what Dean was planning, and wasn’t sure if she would like it much, but she couldn’t deny that the anticipation was delicious. When the door opened and he stepped inside, Mary turned to face him and smoothly knelt on the floor, folding her hands together behind her back.

Dean nearly dropped the utensils and reflexively gripped them tighter. “That’s unexpected,” he said, his voice low and gravely. The picture his mother made on her knees for him was certainly getting his cock interested in the proceedings.

“You wanted submission, didn’t you?” Mary asked in a soft voice.

“Yeah.” Dean walked to the bed, putting his things down, then stepped over to Mary, walking a slow circle around her. “God, you look good like that.”

Mary’s lips curved in a slight smile, but she didn’t reply.

“Too bad you’re not naked. Get up and strip.” Dean moved over to the wall, leaning against it so he could watch.

Glancing up at him from under her lashes, Mary paused a moment before getting to her feet. She slipped her flannel off her shoulders, her partially untucked tank over her head next. Tilting her head, she considered her options, then toed her shoes and socks off and pulled open the button and zipper of her jeans. It took some wiggling to get the tight fabric off, and she bit back a smile at the bulge that became prominent in Dean’s own jeans. In her bra and panties, she did a little twirl, swinging her hips and rolling her shoulders and heard Dean mutter something about strippers. She took it as a good sign and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, lazily letting it fall to the floor.

Before she could hook her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, Dean was right there, crowding up against her. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he growled, wrapping one hand in her hair and dragging her into a kiss that forced her up on her tiptoes. When he finally let her breathe again, he took over stripping off her last item, leaving the panties in a lacy puddle at her feet.

“Bend over the bed,” he commanded.

When Mary turned to the bed to obey, she saw the spoons and spatula waiting there and her breath caught in her throat. “ _Oh_.” Still, she didn’t pause as she stepped up to the end of the bed, bending over it and bracing herself on her elbows. “Like this?”

Dean’s hand smoothed over her ass, making her skin tingle, and he nodded. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

The first swat was unexpected, but Mary didn’t make a sound as Dean’s hand connected with her ass. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, and given that this was going to be a punishment, Mary’s stomach clenched. Dean knew what he was doing, starting slow to work her up. She wondered if she’d be able to sit the next day.

Each hit connected to a different patch of skin, methodically working over Mary’s backside and upper thighs. Dean’s hand stung, but he ignored it, continuing on until he was satisfied with the pink flush of skin and Mary’s breathing was pointedly long and slow. As he considered what to do next, he slid his hand between her thighs, smug but unsurprised to find her soaking wet. “Not much of a punishment yet, is it?” he asked. “Well, we’ll fix that.”

Dean picked up the wide wooden spoon, slapping it experimentally against his palm before nodding. The first hit was a warm-up, using the same pressure he’d used with his hand. The second was harder, a firm hit right to the place where the curve of Mary’s ass met her thighs, and she squeaked quietly, the first sound he’d managed to pull from her so far. He was determined to hear more.

The spoon came down in an even rhythm, and for a long time, the weight of the hits stayed constant, lulling Mary into a dream-like state. Her ass and thighs burned, but the pain barely registered. Slowly, the swats became stronger, and Mary began to gasp with them, rocking in place, not to avoid them, but to push back into them.

When Mary’s breathing was loud and ragged, Dean stopped again. He didn’t have to touch her to know how wet she was, he could see the glisten of her arousal down her inner thighs, but he wanted to feel it on his fingers, and as he set down the spoon with his left hand, he slipped his right over her sex, pushing two fingers into her and pulling them back out immediately.

Mary made an odd choking sound and pushed her hips back, seeking the touch that was taken away before she even really had a chance to enjoy it.

“Not yet, Mary,” Dean said, patting her ass. He picked up the smaller spoon, its bowl barely wider than the handle, and popped it sharply across the back of Mary’s left thigh.

She yelped, and a red line bloomed faintly across her skin, making Dean grin. It was almost like a cane, he realized. A little wider and a lot shorter, so it wouldn’t bring the same level of pain, but it would be enough.

This time he didn’t keep a steady rhythm, not wanting her to get used to the sensation and fall into a trance again. He wanted her to _feel_ it.

And feel it she did. Each hit brought a line of fire across Mary’s skin, and it wasn’t long before tears were prickling her eyes. She fought them, wanting to take her punishment with dignity, but it was too much, and as the tears fell, she pressed her face into the bedding, which had the side effect of muffling the cries that were starting to fall from her mouth.

Dean was having none of that, and reached up with his free hand to grip her hair, pulling her head back up. “I want to hear you,” he growled, and gave an extra firm swat across the sensitive tops of her thighs, making her cry out and squirm.

“P… plea-ease,” Mary groaned brokenly.

Dean slowed down, but didn’t stop as he asked, “Do you remember your safeword?”

Mary nodded.

“Do you want to use it?”

She quickly shook her head. “No… please… Dean, I want…”

“I don’t give a damn what you want,” Dean informed her evenly, and picked up his pace again, watching the red lines crisscrossing her skin.

Mary shuddered, her breath catching, and used one hand to wipe at her cheeks, a useless gesture as her tears simply replaced the wetness she wiped away.

But Dean caught the motion and stopped to look at her face, smiling as her eyes flicked up to meet his. They were pink and watery but glassy with arousal. He liked it, but it was time to move on. Putting the spoon down, he picked up the spatula and whipped it against his inner arm. Yeah. That stung even more than either of the spoons did.

Mary nearly jumped out of her skin at the first hit, a shriek pouring out of her. Each swat pulled more noises from her throat until the sounds ran out, leaving only sobs that shook her whole body.

Dean paused for a long moment, running his hand over her lower back until she calmed down slightly, then he asked, “Are you sorry?”

Still distracted by the burn of her ass and thighs, Mary didn’t answer, gulping air and sniffling. Another hard swat with the spatula got her attention and she yelped loudly.

“ _Are you sorry_?” Dean repeated, his voice hard and rough.

“Yes!” Mary squirmed on the bed for a moment, then stopped as even the whisper of air from her movements lit her nerve endings on fire. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so… s-sorry!”

Dean dropped the spatula and slid his hand down over Mary’s backside, relishing the sharp gasp the move pulled from her. Shifting so he was directly behind her, he pressed against her, the fabric of his jeans brushing her skin and making her tremble. Leaning down, he pulled her hair out of the way and pressed his mouth to her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he whispered. “And you’re not going to come until I let you. You understand?”

When she again didn’t answer immediately, Dean gripped her hair tightly and Mary moaned. “Yes… I understand.”

“Good girl.” Dean nipped at the curve of her ear before straightening back up. The front of his jeans were wet just from leaning against Mary, and he reached to undo them, finally releasing his cock from the strangle-hold they had on it. He could’ve gone slowly, and normally he would’ve, but she was _so_ wet, and he was so hard. So instead, he brought the head of his dick to Mary’s entrance, gripped her hips, and lunged forward, burying his entire length inside her in one hard thrust.

Mary cried out a mess of syllables that might have sounded like “yes” and “fuck” and “oh” if she had been more coherent.

Dean didn’t give her time to adjust, immediately beginning to hammer into her, the sounds she made spurring him on. She was so wet it almost felt like there wasn’t any friction, despite her muscles gripping him tightly.

Every time Dean’s hips met her ass, the fabric of his jeans rasped painfully over Mary’s sensitive skin, not allowing her to forget the paddling she’d endured, but it didn’t lessen her arousal, or the pleasure of her son fucking her harder than she thought possible.

It wasn’t long before Mary’s moans went up in pitch, muscles beginning to tense, and Dean growled, “Don’t you fuckin’ _dare_ ,” before pulling out. It took almost all his willpower to stop, and his dick hated him for it, but it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about making sure that Mary didn’t come before he wanted her to.

Mary let out a broken groan, her knees going weak as Dean let go of her, the bed the only thing holding her up. “Dean, _please_ ,” she whimpered, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye.

Instead of answering, Dean picked her up, moving around the bed and tossing her down onto her back. She bounced slightly, her hair tumbling in wild curls, breasts bouncing. Shucking his jeans finally, Dean moved between her thighs that she parted for him, and thrust back inside.

Mary’s back arched and she cried out, reaching up to grip Dean’s shoulders, anchoring herself to him.

Dean slapped her hands away and grabbed her wrists, leaning over her and pinning her hands above her head. “Keep your hands here or I’ll stop.”

A sound of assent came from her and Mary curled her fingers into fists, trying to focus on that even as she rolled her hips up to meet Dean’s. If she could just ignore what was happening between her thighs, she might be able to avoid coming.

As if Dean sensed her distraction, he reached between them, pinching Mary’s clit.

Mary yelped, her eyes flying open, muscles clenching tight as she fought the orgasm that was rising up. The grin Dean gave her could only be described as sadistic, but it did nothing to lessen her need.

“I think,” Dean said, aiming for a conversational tone but failing as he breathed through his own arousal and exertion, “that I might just leave you like this. Soaking wet and fuckin’ desperate. Not let you come at all.”

“No no no no,” Mary groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as she arched further against him. “Please…”

Sliding his hands to cup Mary’s ass, his fingers digging roughly into the abused flesh, he asked, “Think you deserve to come?”

Mary lost her breath from the painful reminder that this was a _punishment_ , and she bit her lip and hesitantly shook her head, looking up at Dean with pleading eyes.

“Tell you what,” Dean husked, leaning down to speak directly into her ear and taking a moment to bite at the lobe when she tilted her head to give him more room. “You take everything I give you and I’ll make sure you have the best goddamn orgasm of your life. Sound good?”

With a breathy sigh, Mary agreed, “Yes… god, yes, please.”

Pulling out of her for the second time, Dean wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing tightly and ignoring the discontented groan Mary let out. “Spread your legs for me. Come on, wider.” When he decided that she was spread open enough, he shifted and swung his hand, making contact with her pussy with a loud smack.

Mary screamed, violently jerking on the bed, and Dean gripped her thighs to keep her from closing them.

Once she began to relax, Dean reached to the end of the bed, picking up the wide wooden spoon and tapping it in a path up the inside of her leg. By the time he was halfway up her thigh, she was trembling, muscles tense as she panted for breath. “You know what’s coming, don’t you?”

Nodding, Mary swallowed hard, watching him with wide eyes. The first few taps of the spoon weren’t too bad, but each one was firmer than the last, and it wasn’t long before her pussy and clit were burning and throbbing in a way that made her feel like she was going to lose her mind. It hurt, horribly, but at the same time, she didn’t want to safeword out, didn’t want to risk not getting to the end. Not being able to come.

Dean watched with heated eyes as Mary writhed under his less-than-tender care, not letting up until an incoherent tangle of desperate noises steadily fell from her lips. By then, he was nearly desperate, too, and took his place between her thighs again, fucking into her hard and fast.

Mary wailed, wrapping her legs tightly around Dean’s hips, trying to pull him deeper into her. She could feel her orgasm welling up, helpless to resist it any longer.

“No!” Dean growled, stilling inside her as he felt her begin to flutter around him. He couldn’t quite bring himself to pull out again, his own willpower not strong enough, but he was determined that Mary wouldn’t come until he told her she could.

Panting, Mary trembled like a leaf beneath him, her mind spinning and only able to focus on one thing: not yet. She was _so_ close and she wanted it so bad, but Dean had said no. And she had to obey him completely tonight.

It took longer than previously for Mary to relax enough that Dean could start to thrust again, which was good for him as well, as he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out, either. It was the one thing he hadn’t thought of before starting this entire thing. He had known he wanted to fuck her, and wanted to come _with_ her, but it hadn’t clicked that it meant he’d be edging himself as well.

Mary gripped the top edge of her pillow, nails digging into the fabric to keep herself from reaching for Dean again, and she moaned when one of his hands slid up the inside of her thigh.

“Come for me, Mom.”

Mary wasn’t sure if it was the permission, the sudden pressure on her clit, or finally hearing Dean call her Mom again that threw her over the edge.

It was overwhelming, incandescent, as the wave of her orgasm crashed over her, and Mary released sounds she’d never made before as she lost all awareness of anything other than the pleasure sizzling through her nerves.

If Dean had thought that Mary looked beautiful when she came the first time they had sex (and he had), it was nothing compared to the complete and utter rapture in her expression now. He didn’t have long to enjoy it, though, as the vice-like, pulsing squeeze of her muscles around him, paired with the splash of wetness against his skin as she squirted on his cock, made him lose his own battle with holding back.

Nothing existed for long moments, and when Dean came back into his body, he was grunting and still rutting against his mother, his dick aching with the sharp pain of overstimulation.

Mary let out little whimpers with each breath, sprawled out limp on the bed, unable to move. When Dean slowly pulled out of her and flopped to the side, she let out a pitiful whine, both relieved and disappointed that he was no longer inside her.

After a long silence while they both got their breath back, Dean vehemently groaned, “ _Fuck_.”

“Mmm,” Mary hummed in agreement, shifting slightly and hissing as her sensitive skin rubbed against the blanket.

Rolling onto his side, Dean propped himself up on one elbow, draping his other arm across Mary’s stomach. “You okay?”

Mary didn’t respond verbally, just rolled her head toward Dean and smiled slightly, her eyes closed.

With a tired chuckle, Dean gathered her up in his arms, rolling to lay on his back again and pulling her half on top of him. He ran a hand over her back soothingly and she shivered against him. “I got you, Mom,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re okay.”

“F’rgive me?” Mary mumbled, nuzzling into Dean’s chest.

“Yeah.” Dean kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

*

The next morning, Dean made his way to the kitchen, his gait a little awkward. Sam was already there when he arrived, and he immediately asked, “What’s for breakfast?”

“Seriously?” Sam asked in disbelief.

Dean shrugged slightly. “What? I’m hungry.”

Huffing out an unamused laugh, Sam shook his head. “Yeah I bet. Dude… what the hell were you guys _doing_ last night? I mean, don’t answer that, but _god_. Earplugs were not enough.”

Smirking, Dean poked around in the fridge. “Sorry, man.”

“Where’s Mom, anyway?”

Straightening, Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder with a smug grin. “Sammy, I am a sex _god_.” Sam cringed. “Mom can’t move, she’s stuck in bed for the day.”

“Ugh, dude, gross,” Sam groaned, shoving Dean away and leaving the kitchen, muttering to himself about brain bleach.


End file.
